Hide and Seek
by Halcris
Summary: Cowley's 'need to know' policy towards his operatives adds to their problems when their boss is missing.


**Hide and Seek. **

It was only just after 5 a.m., when Bodie drove his car into the yard outside his mate's flat. He climbed out and pressed the doorbell. He leaned wearily against the wall as he waited. What a time to be up ! It was barely light. It was a good job Maria hadn't kept him out too late last night. But she was an air-hostess, who also had an early start this morning, so they'd been sensible, reluctantly.

The door opened, and his team-mate, Doyle, emerged. To Bodie's surprise, his friend was wearing the overalls he used when working on his motor-bike in the garage under the flat, and carrying a large tool-bag.

"What's the fancy get-up for ? " Bodie queried. "You're not expecting to be seen this time in the morning ?"

"We might be," retorted Doyle "So it's just as well to look the part, isn't it ?"

"If you must," said Bodie resignedly, and they both climbed into the car.

They had a rather special job to do, a bit of 'breaking and entering', so although it was early, they were both alert and ready to get on with it.

They drove through almost empty streets to a quiet suburb in South London, and parked outside a row of shops. There was hardly anyone about, just a van delivering papers to a newsagent. They looked down the street, picking out their target, an amusement arcade called, rather grandiosely,

'Joe's Fun Palace '

"Round the back, I think," said Doyle, "to be on the safe side."

They left the car, and found a passage leading to the back-alley. It didn't take long to locate the right back yard, and even less time to deal with the lock on the back door, Fortunately, there were no fancy alarms, Joe couldn't afford them !

Their small but powerful torches soon located the machine they were after, one loaded with sweets wrapped in brightly-coloured foil papers. A little work with a screw-driver soon had the plastic cover off. Bodie stuck his hand down into the pile of sweets, and felt about for the floor of the machine. He soon found what he was after, one green-wrapped sweet, apparently stuck to the bottom. He removed it from the base, and pulled it out. He un-wrapped it quickly, and showed Doyle that they'd got what they were after.

A few minutes work restored the plastic cover, and dealt with the picked lock. Soon they were back in the safety of the car, - mission accomplished !

What was it all about ? It all had to do with a very clever under-cover agent, who supplied Cowley, head of C.I.5, with a lot of very useful information.

His 'modus operandi' was very cunning. Every month or so, he amassed all his information onto a special small disc. Then he did a bit of 'B and E', as Bodie and Doyle had done, and deposited it, disguised as a sweet, in the base of a suitable style of machine.

A phone call with a coded message, and a designated number told the C.I.5 men where to look, a different venue every time. In that way the agent maintained his complete anonymity, so vital to his safety. C.I.5 were content to go along with this elaborate ploy, as the information passed on to them was extremely valuable.

As Bodie started the car, Doyle posed a question.

"Next stop, 'the Buggy Boo '," he said "Where is it ?"

"Gilmore Street," replied Bodie, "Take us about 15 minutes, this time in the morning."

The 'Buggy Boo' was the men's facetious name for the plain dark blue van they often used. It was usually to be found parked near a house that had been 'bugged'. For, in spite of its innocuous appearance, the van was a power-house of electronic gadgets. The main one was the device that enabled the operator, sitting in the relative comfort of the van, to hear every word spoken in the selected house.

But it also housed the gadget Bodie and Doyle were after, a clever machine that would de-code all the information from the little disc they would slip into it, and transfer it all to the main computer, to be translated into files labelled 'for Cowley's eyes only'. These he would study carefully, to memorise every detail. Then they would be destroyed to preserve security and safety.

The information would be housed in the shrewd mind of George Cowley, to be used, or passed on, according to his discretion.

Bodie's estimate was pretty good. They reached the van in 14 minutes flat, and greeted Reg, who was on duty there. They watched carefully as he inserted the little disc into his machine and pressed the button. It made no sound, though he assured them it was working, so they waited patiently for the confirmation from the computer base, that it had all gone through properly.

This came after a few minutes, and their early morning task was successfully completed.

The pair now felt that they were due a breakfast break, and argued amiably about where to go for this. They appealed jokingly for Reg to arbitrate, but he firmly declined, so they ended up tossing a coin. They were in relaxed mood as they dealt with their hunger, and then returned to base to see what was next on their agenda.

This turned out to be another stake-out. Neither of them much liked this sort of job, as they often turned out to be unproductive. They felt that they could just as well be done by less senior operatives, while they got on with more important work.

But Cowley said he particularly wanted them on this one, as it was in an unusually 'posh' area, and merited their experienced attention. So they collected all the necessary gear and departed. They set up their cameras and other equipment, and settled down to watch and wait. It didn't turn out to be as boring as usual, for, as it happened, there was a great deal of 'coming and going', all of which had to be filmed and recorded.

It was just after their rather un-interesting lunch of coffee and sandwiches, that the radio-phone buzzed. Bodie picked it up and answered it.

"Bodie, Doyle," came Murphy's voice. "I need you back here fast !"

"What's up ?," asked Bodie, knowing from the tone of Murphy's voice that it must be something important.

"Can't say over the phone," said Murphy, "but it's urgent. Brown and Sanderson should be there in a moment to take over from you." He cut the connection abruptly.

"What's happening,?" asked Doyle.

"Don't know," replied Bodie, "but it must be something big. Murphy's in a bit of a flap, and that's not like him."

Doyle nodded in agreement. Their friend was usually calm and steady as a rock. They started to get their personal gear together.

Footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of their replacements, so they moved quickly, and were soon on their way back to base at top speed.

They hurried up the stairs to Cowley's office, where Murphy was waiting for them.

"What's going on ?," demanded Bodie.

Murphy turned a strained face towards them.

"Cowley's missing !," he said baldly.

"What ?," exclaimed Doyle, incredulously

"Yes," said Murphy. "He left here for an appointment at 1 o'clock, with the Minister.

We've not long had a phone call, asking why he hadn't arrived."

"You've tried his phone ?," asked Bodie.

"Yes, no answer," Murphy replied.

"And the car-phone?," queried Doyle

"The same," said Murphy. "No response."

"Who was his driver today ?," asked Bodie."

"Wilson," their friend replied instantly.

"He's a good man," said Doyle. "If they'd had a breakdown or an accident, he would have let us know."

"Unless," said Bodie, "it was too bad."

"No," said Murphy. "We've checked all hospitals and the police. No accident reports."

Bodie and Doyle nodded approval. Murphy appeared to have made all the right moves.

"Have you put out an A.P.B. on the car ?" asked Doyle.

"Done that too," answered Murphy. "Nothing yet."

The trio sat deep in thought, trying to determine what to do next. The situation was so bizarre and puzzling. True, they'd all known somewhere in the back of their minds, that one day Cowley might be targeted, but now that it had happened, they were somewhat at a loss, without any clues to work on.

The phone on the desk rang suddenly, startling them. Bodie grabbed it, listened intently to what he was being told, then replied briskly.

"We're on our way," he said, and put the phone down.

"The police," he told the eager listeners. "They've found the car, parked in the station car-park, out at Barnet. They've found Wilson too. He was tied up and stuffed in the boot."

"Was he hurt ?" asked Doyle.

"No, he's all right," replied Bodie. "He's at Barnet police-station.

Let's go and find out what he can tell us."

"Shall I come, too ?" asked Murphy.

Bodie thought for a second.

"No," he said. "You're much better help here, co-ordinating any information that comes in. We'll let you know at once what he has to say."

Murphy nodded agreement, as the other two left the office at a run.

They drove quickly to the police-station out at Barnet, where they found Wilson sitting in a briefing-room, nursing a cup of tea, and looking very confused and shaken.

He brightened visibly as he saw Bodie and Doyle come in. Doyle spoke re-assuringly to the worried-looking man.

"Just take it steady, Wilson," he said, "and tell us exactly what happened."

"Well," said Wilson, "I was taking Mr. Cowley to see the Minister, - a job I've done a dozen times before. It all went as usual till we pulled up at some traffic-lights near Westminster Bridge. A black van drew up alongside. Two men jumped out and got into our car, one in the front and one in the back. I don't know how that happened, sir," he said agitatedly. "I always press the door-lock, as soon as Mr. Cowley's aboard. I swear I did it, - it's automatic – I wouldn't forget !"

"What happened then?" encouraged Doyle.

"They had guns," said Wilson. "They told me to drive straight on. I couldn't do anything else, with guns on us both," he added apologetically."

"Course, you couldn't," said Doyle. ""What next ?"

"We crossed the bridge, and the chap beside me directed me." continued Wilson, warming to his story.

"He didn't say much, except 'next left ' or 'right lane', and eventually we ended up in the car-park at Barnet station."

"Go on," urged Bodie, taking all this information on board eagerly.

"I stopped the car, and then he hit me," said Wilson, rubbing his head. "And that's all I remember till I woke up in the dark. I guessed I was in the boot. I banged and shouted a bit. Then suddenly, the police were there and released me."

"They must have had another car waiting," said Doyle thoughtfully. "Did you see it ?"

"No," said Wilson, regretfully. "There was a car nearby, but I didn't get a real look at it - big, dark, maybe dark green, I don't know."

"Tell us everything you can remember about the two men," said Bodie.

"Not much I can tell you," said Wilson. "Big, heavily-built, no accent that I could hear. Nothing distinctive about their clothes, and they were wearing ski-masks, and gloves."

"Let me make a call to the forensic team," said Doyle, "to pick up the car, and then we'll run you home."

"I'm fit enough to drive," protested Wilson.

"Yes, I expect you are," said Doyle, "but we want forensics to extract every possible clue from the car, before it's moved."

Wilson nodded, he hadn't thought of that.

"You'll let me know if you hear anything ?," he pleaded.

"Of course," agreed Doyle, for the man looked really upset over what had happened.

Later, Bodie, Doyle and Murphy were together again in Cowley's office, feeling very frustrated, for nothing else had come in from anywhere.

Then the phone rang .Doyle answered it this time, and listened intently. The others looked at him enquiringly.

"Just forensics," he reported, "to say that Wilson had activated the door-lock, but that the wiring had been tampered with, so it clicked as usual, but didn't work."

Considerately, Doyle rang Wilson at home to tell him that bit of news, knowing that the man was worried, thinking he'd failed his boss.

"Hm," mused Bodie. "That means that this was carefully planned, not just an opportunist attack. Someone got into the garage and sabotaged the car-lock !"

"Not that difficult for a clever agent," said Murphy. "Who looks twice at a mechanic in overalls.?"

Bodie and Murphy looked at Doyle, who was still wearing his overalls.

"You're not accusing me, I hope ?" he said indignantly.

"Course not !," the other two chorused with a grin. It was in the character of these men that they used a bit of light banter like this, to try to defuse the tension they were all feeling.

"I've got some other stuff in my locker," said Doyle. "I'll go and change. Then we'd better sit down and see if we can think this through.

He wasn't long, and rejoined the others, who had set chairs round the desk, and rustled up a drink for each of them.

( Coffee sent up from the canteen, they hadn't dared to consider raiding Cowley's malt whisky.)

Doyle started them off.

"The first point is," he said firmly, "it was an abduction, not an assassination attempt. They could have done that easily, if that was what they wanted."

"Agreed," said Bodie, "but that makes the real question 'Who?' and 'Why ?'

"For information ?" suggested Murphy.

"Well, we all know that Cowley has a store-house of that," agreed Doyle. "But why now ?" he continued.

"All the heads of the various organizations know a great deal, and as we are all supposed to be on the same side, we are meant to share anything useful. Doesn't always quite work out like that, I know.

I mean, look at us and the K.G.B. We have regular meetings, the big Russian that hypocritically calls Cowley 'Tovarich ', and his 'heavies', and you and I, Bodie, backing up Cowley. There's supposed to be an exchange of information, but we know very well that each side only tells the other what they want them to know, as in the Darby case, do you remember ?"

Bodie nodded, remembering the trouble after that encounter.

"But it works," went on Doyle, "because a sort of 'balance of power' is maintained. No one group wants a major incident to upset things."

"Yes," mused Bodie, "So it would take something really important."

"Cowley was going to see the Minister," said Murphy. "Suppose he had something really vital to tell him, that someone didn't want revealed."

"And so they had to stop him," agreed Bodie, "and in a hurry.!"

Doyle voiced a long shot. "What if it was something he found out this morning, from that disc we recovered for him. I wish we knew what was on it."

He picked up the phone, called the switch-board, and asked to be put through to Reg in the 'Buggy Boo'. It only took a minute.

"Reg," he said urgently, "That disc we gave you this morning. Could we run it through again, to see what was on it?"

"Not a chance," replied Reg. "The machine wipes it clean, as soon as proper reception is acknowledged."

"What about the stuff in the computer ?," asked Doyle.

"It goes into a file marked 'Cowley only'," said Reg, and that's erased from the computer as soon as it's in Cowley's hands. He reads it, memorises it, and then destroys his copy, the only one."

"Any way of getting back what's been erased ?", asked Doyle.

"Don't think so," said Reg. "I wouldn't know how. You might try Ivan; he's a 'whizz-kid' with computers."

Doyle thanked him, and closed the line.

"I'm going to the Computer Centre," he said, "to see if I can find a way to see what was on that disc. It could give us a clue to what's behind this."

"Why does Cowley have to be so secretive ?" he complained bitterly.

"Well, we haven't anything else," commented Bodie. "Okay, do it, and keep us posted."

Doyle made good time to the centre, and was soon talking to Ivan, a quiet, solemn young man. He put the question to him.

"It's not easy," said Ivan, "but there are a few things I could try."

He set to work, his fingers flying over the key-board. Twice he threw up his hands, and grunted in frustration. Then, suddenly, an intense look of concentration came over his face, and he began to work slowly and methodically.

Doyle was watching him closely, envying him his skill.

"Got it !," exclaimed Ivan triumphantly, and with a satisfied look at last, he pressed the print-out button. The machine spewed forth three closely-typed sheets. Doyle collected them, and concealed them quickly in a coloured folder

"Great work, Ivan," he said, "You might just have helped us to save the boss."

Ivan smiled with pleasure at the praise, well-deserved.

"Now," said Doyle, "Can you lose that stuff again fast ?

No-one else needs to know about it, okay ?"

Ivan nodded. "I'll fix that, sir," he said earnestly.

Doyle left him to it, and returned to his car. Before he started up, he took a quick glance inside the folder. What was there astonished him.

"Wow !," he said out loud, though there was no-one to hear him. "That's got to be it."

He made excellent time back to Headquarters, and carried the folder up to the office, at a run.

He opened it up and spread the sheets out on the desk. The three men leaned over the desk, reading steadily through all three pages. Then they sank back into their chairs, and gazed at each other in amazement, as they tried to assimilate all the implications of what they had just read.!

Their clever informant, working under cover himself, had revealed full details of another double-agent, this one high up in the Minister's own staff.!

Murphy was the first to break the stunned silence.

"What do we do now ?" he asked. "Go to the Minister ?"

Bodie and Doyle almost yelled in unison, as they answered "No !"

Murphy gazed at them, surprised at their vehemence.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Don't you see ?," replied Doyle, "The only card we've got is that _they_ don't know that _we _know."

"Yes," chipped in Bodie, "If we go to the Minister, and he starts making enquiries, Cowley's dead for sure."

Murphy still looked bemused as Doyle explained.

"It appears that the group we're after have learned somehow that their ' Mr. X' is about to be exposed. They probably know all about how Cowley gets his information, and how secretive he is about it. So their first move was to prevent him passing it on to the Minister, and they reckon they've achieved that."

"Why didn't they just kill Cowley then ?,"asked Murphy.

Bodie helped explain the theory he and Doyle had come to.

"They are probably hoping that if they could find out who's supplying the information, then they could silence him too, and then their 'Mr. X' would be safe to continue."

"I see," exclaimed Murphy, "and they reckon Cowley could tell them that."

"You've got it now," said Doyle

"They'll try to get it out of him," mused Murphy, "and some of their methods can be pretty unpleasant."

"Cowley's pretty tough," said Bodie.

"But he's not a young man," said Murphy doubtfully.

"Cowley won't talk," said Doyle, "for he knows that would mean two deaths, his own and his informant's."

"It means we've got to find him as soon as we can," said Murphy, back to his logical thinking self again. "How do we go about that ?"

"Very discretely," said Doyle emphatically. "But we have one big problem. These so- informative papers don't tell us who exactly is behind it."

"I'd guess the Russians or the Chinese," said Bodie.

"I'd go for the Chinese," said Murphy. "The Russians seem fairly content with the set-up you mentioned earlier."

"Yes," agreed Doyle, "I've a feeling, no more, that our disc-dealing friend is in the Russian camp himself, and I'm sure Cowley knows. It's a pity the stuff on the disc didn't actually say."

"What do you want me to do ?" asked Murphy.

"Hold the fort here," said Doyle instantly, and Murphy nodded. "Collate any information that comes in, and pass on any positive stuff to us, and most important, stall the Minister, as diplomatically as you can."

"What will you be doing ?", asked Murphy.

"Well," replied Bodie, "We'll put some of our best men on to watching the staff from the Chinese Embassy, and others on to looking surreptitiously at any place we suspect they use, to see if there's any activity."

"And we'll be keeping a very careful watch on 'Mr. X'," said Doyle firmly.

"He'll probably do nothing," suggested Murphy.

"Maybe," agreed Doyle, "but we know already that he and the boss have never got on. Sooner or later, especially if he hears nothing, he'll want to go and gloat."

"But Cowley will recognise him," said Murphy.

"That won't matter," said Doyle, "Whatever happens, they're not going to let Cowley go, are they ?"

"Let's get things organised," said Bodie, anxious to be doing something.

"What about this ?," queried Murphy, indicating the folder on the desk. "Shall I destroy it again ?"

The other pair thought for a moment.

"No," said Bodie at last, "I think we should keep it till we get Cowley back. Then if we don't …"

"Somewhere safe," mused Doyle. "I know !," he exclaimed.

He voiced his idea, and the others nodded. He picked up the folder, and left in a hurry.

He was only away for 10 minutes. Bodie and Murphy spent the time calling men to a special briefing session, summoning in those men most skilled at covert observation.

The three then explained the situation very clearly, impressing upon the listening men how careful their work must be.

Doyle warned them bluntly.

"If any of you slip up," he said, "and alerts them that they're being spied on, they'll kill Cowley very quickly to cut their losses."

The men departed and set to work. Because of the care needed, it was going to take time. It was now late in the evening and getting dark quickly as it was winter, so most of the men spent a long and wearisome night with no activity to report.

The next day was much the same. The staff at the Embassy seemed to be going about their normal duties, and no unusual activity was reported.

Bodie and Doyle between them kept careful watch on their target, 'Mr. X', but he moved normally between his home and the office, and made no attempt to go further afield.

Murphy had the hardest job. He dealt competently with all the negative reports that kept coming in, prepared to register anything of interest, and inform Bodie and Doyle instantly, but had had no joy so far.

He also handled extremely well the phone calls from the Minister, which came every few hours. He didn't give him the slightest hint as to what the C.I 5 men were really up to, just gave him assurances that they were making every possible enquiry, and would let him know instantly if there was any news.

Poor Murphy was extremely worried about his boss, as he could visualise Cowley being ill-treated in attempts to get him to talk, and his imagination was working overtime as to what tactics they might use.

Another wearisome night passed. Murphy had hardly left Cowley's office. He'd had food brought in to keep him going, and had dozed fitfully between telephone calls.

All the other men were weary too. Most were voluntarily on duty almost non-stop, taking only the merest of necessary breaks. The same thought was in all their minds.

_Cowley _was_ C.I. 5 ! _They had to get him back !

In the early hours of the morning, Doyle made use of one of his breaks, leaving Bodie watching the home of 'Mr.X', to come in to the office to talk to Murphy.

So he was there, when a call came in from a man called Morrison, a good, careful man. He was pleased to speak direct to Doyle.

"I don't know whether this is important or not, sir," he began.

"Try me," said Doyle tersely.

"Well," continued the man, "I got a hint about a place well out, about 20 miles north-east of Barnet. It's a big house, in its own very large grounds, very remote and isolated. My man told me it had been rented by an Oriental gentleman, a couple of months ago. It didn't seem to be occupied very often, but just recently he's collected considerable quantities of food supplies from the local shop."  
"Go on," ordered Doyle, interested.

"It's not an easy place to watch, but last night I got up on a ridge of high ground behind it, and could see quite a bit from there."

"What did you see ?" demanded Doyle.

"There were quite a few cars in the forecourt, and one had C.D. plates. But it sounds as if they're having a party, sir ! There's lots of loud music and shouting going on, and lots of lights."

"A party?," mused Doyle, "but it's not Chinese New Year, that's January/ February time."

He appealed to Murphy.

"Do you know of any Chinese festivals this time of year, in November ?"

Murphy shook his head.

"Keep watching discretely, Morrison," ordered Doyle and let me know if any other cars turn up."

Doyle looked thoughtful as he replaced the receiver. "It could be just a place they use for entertaining," he said, "but they don't do a lot of that, and the little they do is usually at the Embassy. But it is out beyond Barnet, which is the way they were heading. I'll see what Bodie thinks."

He talked with his mate, and they agreed that it was interesting, and well worth keeping an eye on, but it wasn't conclusive, and they'd wait for further developments.

Another dreary day passed, with nothing of interest being reported. The Embassy staff were behaving normally. 'Mr.X', watched in turn by Bodie and Doyle, was going in to work as usual.

Murphy was annoyed because the man whose name had been revealed to them, had had the gall to ring up, speaking on behalf of the Minister, to enquire if there was any news of Cowley. Murphy found it hard to speak normally to him, knowing what he did. I bet you know exactly where Cowley is, he thought to himself. He forced himself to reply civilly, thanking the man for his concern, but told him that there was no news as yet, and they would keep the Minister informed of any progress.

About 5.30 in the afternoon the phone rang. It was Doyle, and he sounded excited.

"Something could be happening," he said urgently. "Our man has left the office, he's driving himself, and he hasn't taken the turning for home. I'm following. Alert Bodie, get him to call me soon, and I'll have more idea of where we're going. Tell him we're heading North."

Murphy quickly alerted Bodie and told him all Doyle had said. Bodie rang his team-mate on the car-phone. Doyle responded instantly, and sounded excited.

"Guess what ?" he said, "We've just gone through Barnet. And we're on the road going north-east. It looks as if we're heading for the place Morrison is watching."  
"Great," said Bodie with enthusiasm. "I'll alert the other men, and Morrison. Let's rendezvous where he is, on the ridge behind the house, and then we'll decide how to play it."

"Right," said Doyle, "but be sure you warn them to get there carefully, so as not to alert anyone."

Half-an-hour later, the C.I 5 force was gathered together on the ridge above the house.

Doyle joined them and confirmed that that was where the car he'd been following had gone. Although it was now dark, as it was November, he'd been very impressed as he'd come round to join the group, for he hadn't spotted a single conspicuous car, so evidently his warning had been heeded. And, he was also glad to see, most of the men were sensibly clad in dark clothes, and had brought torches and night-vision glasses, as well as their weapons, of course. They're a good lot, he thought to himself, and resolved to ask for some commendation for them, if they pulled this off successfully.

Morrison came forward to speak to Doyle and Bodie.

"I've been watching the house," he said. "and it's a bit odd. All the noise, loud music, and flashing lights etc. is coming from the rear of the building, what would be mainly storerooms or such. I think I know why.

"Go on," said Doyle, encouragingly.

"I think that they're keeping Cowley somewhere there, and they are using what's called 'deprivation therapy'. I've been reading about it recently. It involves wearing someone down by not letting them sleep."

Several of the men listening let out muffled exclamations, as they realised that Morrison could have got it right.

"Good man !," said Doyle, "I think you just might have sussed it."

He exchanged a few quick words with Bodie, then spoke again to all the listening men, quietly awaiting orders.

"We've got a small army here," he said. "So we could sweep down with all the cars take them by surprise, and barge in with force."  
He paused, scanning the faces of the men, eager to do anything that was asked of them, to rescue their top man.

Then he continued.

"But Bodie and I think it would be much better, if just a few of us sneaked in quietly, dealing silently with those we might encounter, and got Cowley out and away, without the main men realising it." He let this idea sink in, then explained.

"One, it would avoid a major incident, which would cause all sorts of diplomatic wrangling, and two, because it would give C.I.5 a big advantage, for they would know that they couldn't complain because we know what they've been doing. It would give us a hold that would make them 'toe the line' for a bit."

A swift murmur of approval ran round the assembled men at the cleverness of this tactic.

Bodie issued swift orders.

"I want one man in each car, so that when you get the signal that we've pulled it off, you can be out of hiding, ready to pick us all up, so we can get out of here fast."

Reluctantly several men took on this task, which would involve alertness, but would keep them out of the main action. But they were a team, and teams work together, each member playing his own part to the best of his ability.

Doyle chose two of the others, not an easy task, for they were all keen, but he had to decide.

"Bodie and I, Johnson and Morrison will go in," he said, "and the rest of you I want close behind us, but concealed in the grounds, ready to rush in if it sounds as if we've got trouble."

Soon the whole group were making their way silently down through the wooded grounds towards the back of the house. One man was left at the top, ready to flash a torch signal to the cars, as soon as he was sure they were on their way back up.

As they neared the back of the house, the noise grew louder and louder, and they realised that it wasn't music as such, just sudden bursts of sound, interspersed with loud shouting, a short sequence repeated over and over again.

The lock on the back door proved no problem, and they crept cautiously into a corridor. The sound, which was now deafening, seemed to emanate from a small room at the far end of the passage.

A man emerged from the room, and the C.I. 5 men shrank back into the shadows. As the fellow got nearer, what Doyle saw made him smile wryly. Tufts of cotton-wool were sticking out of the man's ears ! Now why didn't we think of that, he thought to himself. ?

The man stopped outside a door. With one hand he flicked a switch, on and off, on and off. With the other, he picked up a baseball bat leaning against the wall, and thumped the door heavily with it. He kept this up for a few minutes, then stopped, put the bat down and retreated to his little room.

At a signal from Bodie, Johnson and Morrison moved swiftly along the hall after him. There may have been the sound of a scuffle and a blow, but no-one heard it because of the din.

Bodie and Doyle moved to the door, found the key still in the lock, and opened it quickly.

What was revealed was what had probably once been a store-room, but it had been stripped bare, leaving just smooth window-less walls, and a dusty stone floor.

Cowley was there ! He made a sorry picture. Wearing only his vest and pants, he looked cold, tired and old !

But he still had enough spirit left, to push himself off the wall, and berate his rescuers.

"At last," he said. "What kept you ?"

Bodie and Doyle grinned. Their boss might have been down, but he wasn't out !

Johnson and Morrison came hurrying up the hall, and they weren't empty-handed.

"We found these," said Johnson, and handed over Cowley's clothes. Quickly, several hands helped him don, first his trousers and then his shoes. His shirt and jacket were added as they hustled him along the corridor towards the back door.

Morrison and Johnson had had the good sense not to turn off the music, which they could have done, in the small office.

Leaving it on meant that the prisoner's absence might not be noticed for some time.

As they moved away from the house, other men emerged from the dark shadows, and there were many hands eager to help as Bodie and Doyle hurried Cowley up the wooded slopes, back towards the ridge.

One man shot ahead, and as soon as he was within sight of the man waiting at the top, gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign. The watcher, in turn, used his torch to flash a signal, and one by one the cars emerged from their clever concealment, and gathered close to the ridge.

Soon all the C.I 5 men were back aboard, and the cavalcade moved off rapidly.

Bodie and Doyle had hustled Cowley into the back of one of the biggest cars, and he leaned back in his seat with a tired sigh.

"Where to ?", asked the driver.

"Headquarters," replied Doyle instantly. "He'll be safer there than in his own home."

As it was late at night, or rather, early in the morning, there was little traffic on the suburban roads, as the stream of cars raced for home.

Cowley appeared to be dozing off, not surprisingly. He roused himself once.

"Wilson, is he all right ?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," answered Bodie. "He wasn't hurt."

"Good," grunted Cowley, and relaxed again. Five minutes later he was asleep, his head drooping to rest on Bodie's shoulder. All was quiet for a while.

Suddenly, Bodie addressed his mate.

"Ray," he said . "What about 'Mr. X ?"

"What about him ?," replied Doyle. "He's finished. As soon as they find Cowley has gone, he'll know the game's up. Maybe he'll get his Chinese friends to get him away abroad."

A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he smiled. "Or perhaps, they'll decide he's no further use, and get rid of him for us. Either way he won't be back, that's for sure."

The cars pulled into the parking-bays at Headquarters, and tired, but very satisfied men piled out.

Doyle called them together and issued a word of praise.

"Thank you all for playing your part so well. It was a good job in the end. We'll have a de-briefing session in the morning, but I don't want to see anyone before 10 o'clock, okay ?"

The men dispersed quickly. Bodie roused Cowley, and together he and Doyle got him upstairs to his office, with its adjoining bedroom area.

Cowley said nothing, but he was very thoughtful as he allowed them to organize him. These men had shown remarkable dedication and resourcefulness, and leadership qualities. It had dawned on him during his captivity, that his desire for secrecy and complete control had left him vulnerable, and had endangered his whole organization.

In future, he resolved, I'm going to take them into my confidence a bit more. They've earned that tonight. !

Murphy had been advised that they were coming. He'd managed, although it was the small hours of the morning, to rustle up various things for Cowley's comfort, a hot drink, some sandwiches, and, most surprisingly, a hot-water bottle, now neatly tucked into Cowley's bed.

As the four gathered in the office, Cowley suddenly asked. "How on earth did you find me ?"

Before the others could answer, Murphy chipped in.

"A lot of patient watching and searching," he said. "but, sir, don't you think explanations can wait till the morning. We are all much too tired now."

Cowley nodded, looking round at their tired faces. "

"But I'm very grateful," he grunted.

Doyle fished in his pocket

"I expect you'll be going to see the Minister later," he said.

"Safety-deposit box at the bank on the corner," he added. "You might like to havewhat's in there."

He handed Cowley the small key, then shot out of the door, closely followed by Bodie. Cowley gazed after their retreating figures, then at the key in his hand. Really, Doyle could be surprisingly devious at times !

Then he relaxed. Murphy was right. Explanations could wait till the morning. For what was left of the night, it was sufficient to know that he had the support of a splendid team of men, who had undoubtedly saved his life tonight, and probably the whole organization he'd built up.

He let Murphy, who was fussing around like a mother hen, help him to bed.!


End file.
